A lemming is a doomed conformist—one who blindly follows others and brings destruction to all. Sounds dramatic, doesn't it? But watch us in action, and you'll see the resemblance.
Are we ambiguous? Are we easily influenced? If so, our rich cultural heritage will soon become invisible in the lives of Bhutanese people. It will acquire new forms and meanings, implanted with contemporary significance, but at the cost of its original essence. we'll trade our soul for a remix.
Culture is important and has become a pivotal approach for our country's survival. Sikkim was not subjugated because of weak rulers, land, or religion, but because of its weak cultural resistance. Sikkim shared a similar culture with its neighbor, India, which made it easy to absorb into their map. Convenient, isn't it? Same food, same clothes, same festivals—why bother drawing a new border? I believe we survive because of our diversity. We must maintain our unique diversity to live on happily—not necessarily import others' cultures to become one.
Many of our spiritual practitioners believe that culture is faith in God. They pursue and examine from far across the borders, and what they practice inevitably has cultural effects on our country. That is why we have mixed religion with tradition. Yet our culture was never, and has ever been, religion. Faith or belief in God is little different from culture. Culture is our traditions, customs, and ways of life. Our civilizations, ethos, and philosophies are all part of our culture—but not religion. We take care of culture, and gradually religion has become culture. Culture has dominated religion. This is not real religion. It's more like religion wearing culture's clothes and hoping no one notices.
Consider our lifestyle: ceremonials, rituals, and festivals are merely formal procedures. I would say they are only religious convictions. Impressive on the outside, empty on the inside—like a tshechu selfie without the actual dance.
Ask anyone: "Does religion change?" The obvious answer is no. But inconsiderate thinkers may feel that religion does change. As a result, our culture keeps on changing. We can never truly keep up with culture. Different cultures will continue to trespass over time. What makes Bhutan Bhutanese? It is our unique culture, our unique citizens, our ethos and values of life. It is our culture—not religion.
But in this globalized world, we have brought in many different cultures and practices. Bishwas Karma Puja, for instance, is not a Buddhist practice. Loud, noisy Hindi music is not our way of making music. We never decorated vehicles with appliqué cloth or put sindoor on our lhakhangs. We have a simple way of performing our own rituals—sprinkling holy water, lighting incense sticks on a car or any object. This we call lhapsang. Simple, elegant, and mercifully quiet.
I am concerned that in Bhutan, some people think that embarking on development means adopting other cultures and traditions. Our young people, in particular, are inclined to exploit and expose themselves to all other values and beliefs. But change does not mean adapting to other cultures and losing one's own. It also doesn't mean confusing "modern" with "someone else's."
Bhutanese losars, mask dances, and other traditions are gradually being overtaken by Christmas, Diwali, free dance styles, and even violence. Indian and Western films, songs, and cultures have shaped our ways. These were never the mass culture of a Buddhist country like ours. Yet they have intercepted and become serious norms today. People talk of GNH, conserving traditions, culture, peace, and tranquility.
I believe being content with what we have is the basic GNH of all. There is no need to adopt ideas in cultural and spiritual heritage simply because they come from developed and powerful countries. We already have rich values within ourselves.
The coming months are festival months. Crops are being harvested. Tshechus are approaching in many dzongkhags, and the Birth Anniversary of the Fourth King will be celebrated. But for many people, nothing will be more enjoyable than Dausheri. It is celebrated everywhere—in school compounds, on the streets, in villages—everywhere. I remember people dancing to Hindi music, getting drunk, and shaking like Shakira. Everyone would laugh and enjoy. That was happiness. Yet this happiness comes from others' values, not from our own internal happiness. We are masala—a mixture of so many other ingredients. We are interested in behaving like others. But do Indians, Koreans, or the English dance our type of dances? They may not have even heard of our traditional dances, let alone be made to dance them. Imagine forcing a Bollywood fan to do a mask dance.
For the next few weeks, the singing of Bailoram and Dausheri will almost knock you out of your peaceful sleep. The distant song of Dausheri will remind us of a picturesque scene from some Ramayana film we once watched. We will barely open our eyes, as it may be midnight. We will lie there thinking, "Why is Bhutan only India? And why is India not Bhutan?" At this rate, we might need a CID just to feel Bhutanese again.
Note: This article was originally posted in 2013. Little changes have been made. Sadly, little else has changed either.
